


BS Meter

by prodigalsanyo



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: Malcolm did not capture John Watkins.  He is not OK.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Edrisa Tanaka
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23
Collections: Prodigal Son Trash Swap Spring 2020!





	BS Meter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [officiumdefunctorum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiumdefunctorum/gifts).



Her wavy bob was pinned up but she had done her brows. It was a cold day in late January, weeks since Special Agent Colette Swanson was assigned to investigations into the Junkyard Killer.

Following John Watkins’ abduction of Malcolm Bright and attempted murders of the Whitly family, Colette’s hopes of quickly wrapping up the case vanished with the winter holiday fanfare. Though Malcolm and his family had survived the encounter, John Watkins had scuttled into the walls of the townhouse, whereabouts unknown. The trail ended with Matilda Watkins and Colette was not inclined to beat that old horse. 

On the upside, Malcolm Bright’s serious injuries kept him on medical leave and out of Colette’s face. She was already peeved that Malcolm had discovered the Junkyard Killer’s true identity. She would exclude Lieutenant Arroyo and, by extension Malcolm, from the call that came in during pre-dawn hours.

Detective Dani Powell approached Special Agent Colette Swanson arriving on scene at Hudson River Valley Park. They met on the boardwalk under a pink washed sky with the sun highlighting a blue city skyline. With the temperatures vacillating from 60s to 30s, river currents churned the murky waters.

“Colette. Where’s Gil?” asked Dani.

“Hello, Dani. All matters pertaining to Watkins come to me. That includes possible victims. Catch me up,” said Colette, sidestepping further questions.

Dani obliged, as Colette expected, walking Colette to the frigid corpse. “The victim is 23 years of age. Fair complexion, wavy light brown hair worn mid-length, brown eyes. Below average height, 5’4”, fairly muscular, wearing a feather angel costume. Found at 3:53 AM here on Pier 45.”

Dani tucked in her lips when the medical examiner on site stepped in with helpful add-ons.

“Victim wore a _sexy_ angel costume. She was in the water,” clarified Edrisa. “Her wings kept her buoyant in the Hudson.” 

Colette raised her drawn brows, her nose scrunched like a rabbit. “Excuse me, she?”

“That a dude,” observed Detective Tarmel.

“She’s pre-op transsexual.”

“Goddamn, Bright?!” exclaimed JT.

Malcolm waved at them, a cardboard drink holder in his uninjured hand and a small plastic bag dangling from his medical cast. The plastic bag was crammed with napkins, sugar packets, and cups of creamer. They watched him, or rather the coffee, like a pack of wolves. His hair hung loose from its usual pomade sculpture as though he had showered and then left his apartment straight away. Huddled up in his long and dark coat, he looked extraordinarily well kept for a recovering stab victim, the cast on his left arm notwithstanding. Another noted change was the pair of black Converses he wore with dark and slim jeans.

“No lipstick. No personal jewelry or glitz despite the unusual clothing choice. No stamps or band to indicate that she paid cover for admittance to the party. Did you find formal but comfortable flats or basic black heels? Her clothes are likely for work,” said Malcolm as he offered fresh brewed Colombian coffee to the detectives.

“Malcolm, so good to see you. But how are you not in pain??” Edrisa asked. She cupped her beverage, upper body swinging side to side when Malcolm’s smile sparkled in her direction.

“Mind over matter,” said Malcolm.

Colette grabbed the last coffee. “Get out of here, Bright. I won’t tell you again.”

“Not a party girl. Transsexual sex worker. Exactly Watkins’ type,” said Malcolm.

Malcolm turned to Edrisa. “Would you lift the victim’s arm please? If you please? I would, but I’m fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Sure thing! But only because Mal is a pal,” Edrisa said. “I imagine you can’t bend over without really feeling it, if you know what I’m sayin.’”

JT choked on his coffee. “Whack.”

“Ms. Tanaka, no one needs to hear that,” said Colette.

“I mean that Malcolm sustained serious injuries that limit movement,” Edrisa pointed out as she lifted the victim’s arm. Her gloved hand stroked along the joint. “This case just got more than a little hairy. Yikes.”

“If the victim is a sex worker, why wouldn’t they shave their pits?” asked Dani. “Especially if they were a stripper or a dancer.”

“I would say there’s almost a month’s growth,” said Edrisa. 

“Tarmel. Head back to the precinct. Find out who’s been missing since New Years Eve and New Years Day. Any reports filed one month from today,” said Colette.

“Agent Swanson, do you know how many people get lost in the sauce New Years Eve?” protested JT. “By this point, missing persons reported on the holidays who wanted to be found would be. Most of these reports would be resolved and a waste of my hours.” 

Malcolm surprised them: “Colette’s on the right track. The killer likely abducted our angel from a holiday event. We have nothing linking this person to Watkins. But for motive, I would say that the killer may have picked our victim because our victim was 1) carrying cash tips, 2) killer already has a marked preference for sex workers, 3) killer has nothing to lose.”

“And we know that Watkins keeps them alive,” concluded Malcolm.

Now that he was standing relatively still, the investigative team were uncomfortably aware of his poor coloring, his breathing raggedy with exertion, and the too sharp gleam of his haunted looking eyes. He did a reasonably good job of presenting his points which only highlighted the fact that he wasn’t okay, he wasn’t better from whatever ordeals that Watkins had forced on him, and that he had no idea how crazy he appeared.

Colette cleared her throat, shoved her empty paper cup into the front of Malcolm’s jacket. 

“Get off my case. You don’t get to buy your way in,” said Colette, the corner of her mouth lifting. “In the meantime, you are welcome to submit via telephone or in writing any helpful snippets that may aid the proper authorities in the arrest of one John Watkins.”

“It’s Watkins. He cut their throat from behind, didn’t want to see their suffering—”

With JT gone, Dani stood between Malcolm and Colette.

“Bright. Does Gil know that you’re here?” Dani asked, grappling him around the shoulder and pulling him in any direction that was away from the murder.

“Powell! I need you here. Finish up your conversation with your friend!” Colette called out.

“You’re her point person,” said Malcolm.

“A lot happened when you were gone,” said Dani. “We still have so much to do to bag Watkins. Get him back for what he tried to pull on you, Malcolm. What he did to the Chief. And what happen to Shannon wasn’t right neither.”

“He messed with police!” she said. Her anger bled out. “We were lucky that we got you back. Do you know what Gil’s face looked like when my calls went to your voice mail?! Take your narrow ass home until you get to come back for real.”

“Dani, I didn’t know you felt that way. Wish I could say it was the meds,” said Malcolm. Concern and more than a little guilt made his voice waver.

Dani tapped his chin. “Hey, there will be a very weird body that’s got your name all over it.”

The lines around Malcolm’s lips momentarily deepened, his eyes crinkling in appreciative humor. Dani moved quickly when he swayed on his feet.

“Edrisa! Can you take this boy home?” Dani called. She saw that Edrisa was no longer speaking with the forensic tech and had car keys dangling from her bare right hand. Usually Edrisa’s cue to leave was the removal of her nitrile gloves.

“Not necessary,” said Malcolm. “I can call a car.”

“I wasn’t planning on any detours but I can help a pal out,” Edrisa agreed.

Edrisa drove him to his apartment and squeezed her Fiat into a dubious two-hour spot. Once she pulled up the parking brake, Edrisa reached over and poked the center of his chest.

“Ah,” Malcolm gasped, eyes brimming and running over. As she suspected, Malcolm experienced extreme tenderness from penetrating abdominal trauma.

“You knucklehead. Is this a walk-up or do you have an elevator?” asked Edrisa.

“Walk up,” said Malcolm. She insisted on seeing him into his abode.

“I may not be a clinician,” said Edrisa, slowing her steps to match his delicate gait. “But you’re a very naughty patient, Malcolm.”

“Don’t tell me that the knife missed your vitals,” Edrisa continued. “If I hazarded a guess, your small bowels took damage. Hopefully not your liver. And if it were your pancreas, well, we wouldn’t be hanging out.”

Malcolm grimaced when they hit the top landing.

“I’m going to take my coat off,” said Malcolm. He headed toward his bathroom.

Edrisa hovered near the weapons collection, the display lights shining on her glasses.

“Um, I have water and… filtered water,” said Malcolm. He had tugged on a black wrap sweater.

“Malcolm. I have to get back to the office,” Edrisa began.

“Yes, of course. Hope your findings are good.”

“… but I won’t leave without a wound check,” said Edrisa. “It’ll be a very cool scar but right now, I’m concerned about your progress since you’re guarding and showing signs of tenderness.”

“It’s healed,” said Malcolm. “Surgery took care of any tissues that would’ve gotten infected. Staples were removed without any issues.”

“Alright,” Edrisa said, backing off. “I’m not technically qualified anyway.”

She started to go down the stairs, but then she huffed, stomped back up and then paced around.

“You know that I was scared that you would end up on my table?” Edrisa said. “For a couple weeks, any time someone with short brown hair came my way, I had to catch myself mid-exam and change where I was standing. I was thinking about how I would witness for you the final time if the worse happened!”

“Edrisa,” said Malcolm. He ruffled his loose hair, his mouth tight when he hugged himself.

“My injuries are healing, but the pain is constant. For personal reasons, I weaned myself off of the painkillers. So I’m always hurting.” Malcolm slouched his shoulders. “That’s what you’re picking up on. No further medical attention would help. I only have time.”

In his spacious and sparse loft, Malcolm looked very small. “I met my yearly reading goal, caught up on my goodreads recommendations. By the time I’m recovered enough to brush up on my axe-throwing and go for the gold, I’ll have my job back.”

Edrisa wrung her hands together. “Malcolm, let me see it. Or I call Gil. I’m sorry.”

“This is inappropriate.” Malcolm pulled open his sweater, unsticking it from his bloodied shirt.

“Malcolm! Fracking hell!” exclaimed Edrisa. 

Malcolm reached for the floor, sitting down before he fell over.

The entry door at the bottom of the stairs slammed. Footfalls clattered and shuffled up the steps. 

A posh woman stopped short when she saw Edrisa, but moreso when she spotted Malcolm knelt on the ground clutching his bloody side.

“What in fuck?!” Jessica screamed. “What did you do to my son?”

“Ah, Mrs. Whitly. Malcolm needs to go to a trauma center. He re-opened his injury.”

Jessica eyed up Edrisa’s outfit, noted the lettering and the decals on her city issued uniform jacket. “Did he— Malcolm, you went to work today!! Unbelievable.”

Malcolm sighed, head lulling, as both Edrisa and his mother dragged him to the waiting car. Jessica used her free hand to shout at her driver over the phone. In short order, a black Escalade pulled up. Edrisa opened the door with Jessica catching Malcolm’s arms.

“Excuse me,” Jessica said. Her tone was sharp.

Edrisa curled up into the backseat, her hand extended to Malcolm who quietly took it and leveraged his dizzy body.

“I’m going with you and Malcolm to Bellevue,” said Edrisa.

“I don’t think so. You were visiting my son about murder cases! Or encouraging him to come to work just weeks after his kidnapping!” spouted Jessica. 

“Mother, she did not,” mumbled the injured party.

“If you were really his friend, you’d leave him alone and let him be! Let him heal,” cried Jessica. 

Edrisa’s face got hot and her ears pounded, lump in her throat, her hands and her tummy tightening up, her instincts freezing her up as though she were squaring off in a snake pit.

But then she saw Malcolm, his blue eyes sinking in misery.

“I am Malcolm’s friend! I’m coming with!” declared Edrisa. She budged herself in easily due to the roomy capacity of the Escalade.

Edrisa’s reward for her earnest words was the most uncomfortable car ride of her life, with Jessica probing her about her relationship with Malcolm.

“You’re a doctor, but not a Doctor,” repeated Jessica.

“Well, I’m not licensed to practice in the state of New York,” said Edrisa.

“Oh, relax dear. I was married to a doctor. Credentials aren’t everything,” said Jessica, tucking back her long auburn hair.

“Edrisa’s the best,” said Malcolm. “She can keep up with me. It’s great.”

If it weren’t for Malcolm’s blood smeared onto the cast around his broken left hand, Edrisa would’ve been smiling ear to ear.

Jessica made Malcolm sit while she filled out his patient form.

“I really can’t believe you’re here. No one stands up to my mother,” uttered Malcolm. He looked at her like a bird he hadn’t seen before.

“You probably should stop going to work when you’re not working,” said Edrisa. “I’ll sit with you for a bit. I have an appointment with an angel.”

Edrisa groaned. “Hopefully I can get back to my car before it gets towed.”

She did not make it; her Fiat was gone. She ended up calling out to chase down her vehicle. Between regular towing fees and parking violation penalty, Edrisa had to cough up $310, not including taxi fare. She was looking at three months of frugal lunches: bean sprout omelet and rice.

She didn’t lie to him when Malcolm called her a couple days later and asked.

“This is because of me. What’s your paypal? Do you have a cash transfer app?” asked Malcolm.

Dani overheard the conversation; she was in Edrisa’s office to get a breather from Colette. “Is that Bright?”

“Say hi, Malcolm!” said Edrisa, thrusting the phone in Dani’s face.

Dani said hi and then pushed the phone back to Edrisa. “Edrisa, don’t take money. Make that boy earn it. He buys you lunch for two months. Make him think twice before he try and sneak back onto the Watkins case.”

“I can do that?” Edrisa blinked, muffling the phone on her shoulder. “I’m so doing that!”

“Dani, you’re a genius. An evil, evil genius,” Edrisa said before she told Malcolm Bright that he had to buy her lunch for _three_ months.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner,” recommended Malcolm.

“Great idea! I'll take it!” Edrisa blurted. “This is so nice of you.”

The line went quiet before Malcolm spoke again. “You would’ve been there. I wouldn’t have been alone at the end after Watkins...”

Edrisa swallowed thickly, waiting until she could lighten her tone. “No way pal.”

“So after Gil kills me…” Malcolm half-joked.

Edrisa’s laugh went thin and watery. “Just so you know, I didn’t call the police on you.”

=^_^= Fin. =^_^=

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Hiding injury/assault; misunderstandings; Edrisa is a good bro; general whumpage and H/c
> 
> Thx KateSamantha for beta and polished ending.
> 
> This was so fun to write!! Thank you peeps!


End file.
